


Let's Be Alone Together

by conshellation



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, but idk im still kinda getting used to writing on here, idk about htis one hi, it doesnt have a very good plotline, it's so DIFFEREnt from tumblr jm a lost kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:19:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conshellation/pseuds/conshellation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>luke has to work with the class nerd for the history project but a classroom at night can be good for things other than working and ashton finds maybe luke isn't the dickhead he thought he was after all</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Be Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> hi so um it doesn’t exactly have a brilliant plotline but i just wrote it to kinda get back into writing on here idk i hope this is ok

“You’re  _still_  on the ‘S’?!” Luke exclaims in disbelief, his hands making an almost permanent rest for his forehead whenever he caught sight of Ashton’s work progress.

“Bubble writing takes skill, Luke.” Ashton glares at the blonde-haired teenager a few chairs away from him. “Something you’re not familiar with.” 

A brief silence falls between them, before Ashton feels a “Soft Art Eraser” hit the side of his head. 

“Ow!” 

“ _Researching_  takes just as much skill as drawing a few letters.” Luke retaliates semi-scornfully, presenting his one sheet of A4 paper littered with Times New Roman font and highlighter stains.

“Yes.” Ashton gestures, leaning off the chair to retrieve the dropped eraser. “And how many pages have you done of research, then?”   
Luke pauses with a nonchalant shrug. “Enough.” 

Ashton narrows his eyes, craning his neck to the clearly non-existent pile of other documents he was somehow expecting Luke to have printed out and completed. “ _One_ sheet?!” 

“Don’t cry.” Luke raises his eyebrows mockingly at Ashton’s outrage. “We still have heaps of time left before this is due in. Leonardo Di Caprio wasn’t exactly after finishing the Mona Lisa in one evening, was he?” 

Ashton has to refrain from letting himself wake up with a very desk-shaped bruise mark in the centre of his forehead at the sheer stupidity of Luke’s passing comment. “Okay, one…” He sighs, closing his eyes. “Leonardo Di Caprio is an actor who isn’t after anything other than an Oscar. And two…” he rolls his eyes. “We’re not comparing a History project to one of the greatest works of art of all time, so-

“You never know.” Luke cuts him off with another shrug. “Who’s to say this beauty won’t end up in the National Gallery?” He gestures majestically to Ashton’s S, which by this point the had just about savaged the poor electric pencil sharpener to ensure he had enough yellow pencil to finish it. “Loads of junk ends up there.” 

“I doubt they’d be particularly interested in a project on the Wall Street Crash.”

“I dunno, they have a lot of Historical shit in them. There’s that one place with a load of Egyptian bricks and stuff. I went there when I was like, twelve.”

“That’s called the Natural History Museum, Luke.” Ashton grits his teeth, although Luke can detect no  _serious_  annoyance in his voice. Only light irritation. “They’ll be even less interested in this.” He rolls his eyes as he accidentally jogs himself, his pencil dragging across the O and transforming it into some kind of wonky Q.

“ _Artistique._ ” Luke whispers in a mock-French accent at his classmate’s mistake.

“Shouldn’t you be getting on?” Ashton glares into his blue eyes. “It’s not like you have nothing to do.”

Luke rolls his eyes at Ashton’s orders, before whirling round on the desk and giving the unfinished work less than a 10 second stare, before speaking up again after a quiet sigh of procrastination.

“Can’t I colour?” Luke whines, pouting at the studious older boy; his face hidden behind his sleek fringe of sandy-blonde hair which if Luke didn’t think actually looked pretty cute (in a dorky kind of way, of course), would be cruelly laughed at by him and his ‘clique.’ 

Not to mention in terms of style, Luke’s own fringe was nearly matching.

“No.” Ashton mutters defensively. “You said you wanted to be the researcher.” He nods to the open Macbook. “So go research.” 

“I didn’t know the researcher had to  _do_  stuff!” Luke complains, as if that was any kind of relevant justification to make Ashton see the light and hand over the yellow colouring pencil with enormous grace. 

“What did you  _think_  they do?” Ashton frowns, Luke’s stupid question enough for him to actually take his eyes off his stupid title. “Sit at their laptops and look clever?!” 

Luke can’t help feeling a smirk tug at his lips at how stupidly accurate Ashton's sarcasm actually _is._

Ashton exhales in a deep sigh. “Look, please just… get on with whatever you were doing.” His eyes flicker to the laptop Luke had abandoned to sit on the desk next to Ashton, which he was convinced was only to annoy him further than he has already done.

To give a rough understatement, Ashton does  _not_  want _Luke Hemmings_ working with him. He has already come to the conclusion that he had completed more work when he was alone than when he'd made a spontaneous appearance into his one-person group after being moved from his own popularity-and-loud-misbehaviour-filled group, where, in fact, Ashton reckons Luke had probably been the one who completed the most work out of all of them, and it seems illogical to move him into his group

As if Ashton was supposed to set some kind of  _example._

Well, Ashton's good at school, to say the least; living under the constant non-consensual label of “nerd”, “geek”, and whatever shaped the rest of the voices belonging to Luke’s friends across the parking lot at the boy glued to his iPod, alone on the bench every lunch break. 

Luke partakes significantly in the name-calling; of  _course_  he does. A guy of his looks and weekend party schedules doesn’t leave an unpopular kid uninsulted. Not when you’re that high up the social ladder.

Ashton barely even notices much anymore, let alone particularly cares. He’s used to it; being bullied has just become more or less a part of the curriculum for him. Luke isn’t exactly anything  _harmful_  at all. In fact, Ashton isn’t entirely sure Luke actually dislikes him at all. Aside being nothing other than mildly to extremely irritating, it isn’t as if he’s being particularly violent or mean towards Ashton, given that his face and body is still pretty much in tact and his lunch money remains unstolen. Luke’s merely a teddy bear compared to the likings of his friends, and the phantom bruises still throb under Ashton’s school blazer at a shudder of the memory. 

-

“Do you know what’s weird?” Luke suddenly mumbles into the brief silence surrounding the classroom that, to be perfectly honest, Ashton was rather appreciating until his ears met that annoyingly familiar voice of Luke’s, glancing up and noticing his sitting position on the table had now deteriorated into fully lying on the tabletop, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“You not getting on with anything?” Ashton replies sharply, considering it being a good idea if he  _does_  actually leave Luke with the colouring pencils after all.

“Earthquakes.” Luke frowns. Ashton glances up. “Like… I never understood Geography as a whole, but-…?” 

“What’s so weird about the movement of tectonic plates?” Ashton glares at him, but genuinely puts his pencil down with a mixture of confusion and interest at what Luke has so unexpectedly come out with.

“What  _isn‘t_  weird?!” Luke responds in disbelief. “We’re floating in space, and then suddenly our planet decides to spontaneously do the chimichanga.” He explains, before pausing mid-exclamation. “Tectonic  _what?_ ”

Ashton can’t pretend he doesn’t find Luke hilarious. He feels his face break out into a grin as he tries and miserably fails to suppress his giggles, burying his pinkish face in his hands. Luke gives him a small grin of uncertain humour, not exactly grasping why his passing comment appeared in such a hilarity that it did.

“The chimichanga.” Ashton repeats after a deep breath, although the grin doesn’t subside. He picks up his pencil, giving Luke a quick glance and smirking even more at the vacant cluelessness that’s completely written all over his face. 

“Well…?” Luke shrugs with joking defence. “That’s the best word I could think of.”

“Didn’t Year 9 Geography teach you anything about earthquakes and why they happen?” Ashton questions.

“I dunno.” Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I had Mr. Harrison for Geography back then, so all I learnt was how to sleep in class without getting caught.” He grins softly at the fond memory of his jumper making a very efficient pillow five times a fortnight.

“The tectonic plates move.” Ashton narrows his eyes, meeting Luke’s upside-down gaze, watching him crane his neck up at his honey-haired classmate from where he lay on the table.

“What  _is_  a bloody tectonic plate?!” Luke demands, his tone coloured with irritation. “You’re wording this as if the Earth is just a giant Ikea.”

Ashton rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks strain with the effort of keeping a straight face in front of Luke. “It’s what the Earth’s crust is divided into. You  _must_  have learnt this in Physics?” 

Luke snorts. “ _Crust._  We’ve gone from a giant Ikea to a giant loaf of bread.”

Ashton replaces his potential snide comment with a deep sigh. “Well, anyway, it’s linked to Continental Drift, which is when the tectonic plates move, the mantle-” Luke cuts him off with a loud yawn.

“Cool.” He rolls off the table surface, landing on one of the chairs as his fringe flops into his eyes 

“Well, you asked.” Ashton frowns at his work, stung at Luke’s obnoxious tendencies as opposed to the expectation of becoming perfectly used to his stupid comments and behaviour. He isn’t too sure himself why he takes everything Luke says to heart; previous experiences should have probably taught him by now that the best way to deal with someone like him, would be to give him silence and continue with the S that Ashton  _still hasn’t finished_  thanks to his unwanted addition.

Although all default determination to get this project done has somehow been replaced by a strange intriguing feeling Ashton realizes he’s developing. A desire to abandon his loaded pencil case and unfinished title, and let Luke talk more about chimichangas and misunderstanding of natural Geography.

“Crust has  _got_  to be the worst word in the English language, though.” Luke shakes his head, his gaze still fixed at the ceiling as Ashton glances up at him, realizing he hasn’t moved and is still engrossed in the spontaneous thoughts of the functions of earthquakes.

“I think ‘moist’ is pretty up there.” Ashton shudders, although diverts his gaze back to the page he’s working on.

“Eugh.” Luke screws up his face, giggling. “Why can’t we have a  _nice_  sounding language? Like-…” He pauses for thought. “Like French?” 

“Le français est beau” 

“You what?” Luke frowns. 

Ashton rolls his eyes. “It’s French. Is there anything you actually  _know?_ ”

“Is there anything you  _don’t_  know?” Luke retaliates daringly. “I took Italian, not French, actually. Sorry for my lack of fluency.

“Italiano è bello” Ashton smirks.

“Calm down, Google Translate.” Luke widens his eyes, resting his chin on the tabletop and watching Ashton colour with wistful eyes. 

“You must know _something_  in French?” Ashton sighs.

Luke thinks briefly. “Merde.”

Ashton can’t control his laughter this time. 

Luke giggles along with him, appreciation flooding his face as he watches the way Ashton’s eyes crinkle, the hazel glitter meeting Luke’s own sapphire shine hidden behind a mess of golden fringe. 

“You can imagine how well that French presentation ended.” Luke giggles through his sleeve, hiding his mouth behind his hands.

“You didn‘t-” Ashton shuts his eyes, letting out a sigh. 

Luke shrugs. “I didn’t know she’d hear?! It was only a whisper.”

“Luke, people in  _Canada_  can probably hear your idea of a whisper.” Ashton rolls his eyes. “I doubt you were very discreet about it.” 

Luke snorts. “Well, we  _did_  do a powerpoint, and-…"

Ashton holds his hands up. “I don’t wanna know.”

“Our class was such a laugh.” Luke sighs fondly at the memory.

“Sure sounds like you learnt a lot.” Ashton widens his eyes, although he’s not holding back his grin so much anymore.

“I have Google Translate to get me though life.” Luke smirks. “I don’t need no Mrs. Davis telling me what to do.”

“And how reliable is Google Translate?” Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“Enough?” 

“They tell you not to use it in language writing tasks for a reason.” Ashton says. “It’s an infamous piece of shit.”

“Oh. So  _that’s_  why I’ve been getting zero on my Italian speaking paragraphs…” Luke’s eyes suddenly flicker with realization.

“Obviously?” Ashton says. “I thought it was a known thing that Google Translate’s known for being terrible.”

“Mrs. Davis  _did_  look pretty shocked when I ended up saying my dad was fourteen.” Luke widens his eyes at the memory; an awkward silence-filled examination room followed by Luke giggling nervously into the plastic microphone.

Ashton sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m not _that_  bad at Italian.” Luke defends himself after having been given time to think of another phrase to contribute to conversation with.

“Really? What swear words do you know in Italian, then?” 

Luke  chuckles, before racking his brains. “Merda.”

“Brilliant.

“Fanculo!”

“Nice.” 

“Fica.” 

“And I was  _wondering_ why you got such bad grades in your language exams?” Ashton exclaims.

Luke smirks again, fixing his fringe and picking at a loose thread on his jumper sleeve. “Languages aren’t my strong point.”

“Can’t think why.” Ashton says sarcastically.

“You seem pretty fluent in whatever it was you were speaking in, though?” Luke tilts his head, his eyes studying the boy with interest.

Ashton shrugs. “My mum’s half-French. We were brought up speaking it at home.” 

“Really?” Luke widens his eyes."

“Yeah.” Ashton nods solemnly. “As for the Italian, I’m not exactly a native speaker. It’s just a little technique I like to call ‘ _listening in class_.’”

“Hey.” Luke frowns, responding with a little playful punch to Ashton’s arm, before hesitating; reflecting on the reminder that they weren’t exactly friendly enough to do things like that yet. They weren’t exactly friendly  _full stop_ , it was only due to the project and Luke’s misbehaviour he was here  _at all_ , let alone having a conversation with Ashton he found he was actually  _enjoying._

It just feels so…  _natural._  He’d been in a non-work related conversation with Ashton for less than ten minutes, and already he’d genuinely laughed more in that space of time than any fake laughter he constantly threw back and forth throughout his own friendship group.

Ashton was just so…  _different._  Luke had never been  _that_ involved in a conversation with any of his other friends before and even now found it difficult to comprehend that he was enjoying this conversation about literally _nothing_  more than he had ever enjoyed any conversations with his other friends, which usually consisted of shallow gossip and uninteresting party talk anyway.

Ashton himself didn’t seem too fazed by the friendly punch. In fact, Luke could only detect shy appreciation that he considered the situation comfortable enough to do that, as he responds with a quiet giggle, his face slightly flushed, before returning to his work.

But Luke wants to talk more.

He simply spends a few minutes studying the boy from the two-seat distance he sits away from him, his eyes trailing across his fringe, holding every shade of light brown and dark blonde falling over his hazel coloured eyes, watching the way his teeth gently nip at his bottom lip in concentration, and right down to his slim hands gripping the pencil, working gracefully across the A3 sheet, making very gradual progress.

Luke doesn’t know if Ashton knows he’s looking, but after about 5 minutes of silent studying, Ashton hears the chair leg drag across the carpet as Luke stands up, leaving the desk and reaching for the Macbook on the other side of the classroom.

He grabs the expensive laptop, pulling it off the desk it sat on, and bringing it back to their table. This time he sits opposite Ashton, a chair closer to him which he soon discovered allowed him to frequently differentiate his glance from the laptop screen up to the honey-haired boy consumed in cute concentration a little more discreetly than holding a gaze for five minutes. And possibly in a little less of a creepy manner.

Ashton's fairly surprised to see Luke actually getting the laptop, having secretly been considering the option of letting him join him with the colouring, and gives him a little smile of appreciation. Maybe this project will  _actually get done_  at some point.

**_Hey Ashton lol._ **

Or maybe not.

The robotic voice of the Google Translate lady breaks the companionable silence between them and earns a giggle from Luke’s classmate, followed by an eye roll. “Luke…”  
Luke smirks, hitting the backspace button repeatedly. 

**_Why does this voice sound so posh have they not been to England like wow we don’t all sound like fucking Prince Charles._ **

Ashton’s giggle ascends in volume a little bit more this time. “Luke, I don’t think they can exactly cater for every type of English accent in the country.”

**_That’s so stereotypical wtf if they want to see real England they should head on over to the outside of McDonald’s in Crawley there are some real crackers over there it’s a beauty._ **

“I don’t think foreign people would like to be greeted with a translate voice full of ‘ _yea fam_ ’s and ‘ _well sick blud_ ’s” Ashton replies through uncontrollable giggles; every humour-filled glint in his eye sending a chill of appreciation through Luke’s body as he rapidly backspaces, his own laughter creating the infamous dimple into his left cheek that Ashton can’t help but wish he wouldn’t cover up so much.

**_Well I don’t want to be greeted by that every time I want to grab a quick box of fries or whatever, either. But I have to suffer._ **

“Yes, but we’re just unfortunate to live there.” Ashton snorts. “We shouldn’t make everyone else suffer our misfortune.”

**_Why not?_ **

“Because that isn’t  _fair,_  Luke.” Ashton rolls his eyes. “We can’t exactly transport the entire population of the world down to Crawley just to give them a taster of what you call ‘Real England.’

**_I never suggested we do that. That’s why the change in the voice is such a better idea._ **

“I think Google has done a massive favour by  _not_  doing that, actually.” 

**_But this voice is still pretty shit._ **

“Which is why it’s about time you _stopped using it_  and talked to me properly. I’d choose your voice over that anyday.”

Luke’s expression softens, but he obediently clicks off the window, also given that his hands were pretty worn out from all that unnecessary typing.

He also silently appreciates the wording of Ashton’s sentences; how he’d asked him to click off Google Translate in order to talk to him properly, as opposed to asking him to click off in order to get more work done.

As an awkwardly heavy silence falls between them both, Ashton quickly realizes it would’ve probably been better to ask Luke to get on with his work.

Luke makes a silent reply by shuffling up one seat, abandoning the Macbook, and although making minimal contributions to the conversation they both desperately wanted to have, calmly positions himself opposite Ashton, and picks up one of the pencils in order to help him colour.

Ashton has given up by this point in even attempting to get Luke to continue with any research and decides to let Luke take his silence as permission, giving him a little opportunity to let his eyes freely travel along the brown-haired boy’s nimble hands, gripping the pencil between his piano-playing fingers and very carefully stroking the colour onto the page, taking extra care not to go over any lines.

Ashton’s gaze progresses until he’s reached Luke’s slim wrists, gently tilting his head in order to read the writing on the fraying bracelets accessorising them.

_WEEKEND Reading 2011_

“You were at Reading?” Ashton comments softly, already accepting the destiny of never finishing this project. If they were going to fail, they might as well fail graciously. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Luke holds up his wrist to allow Ashton a better view, giving the threaded accessories a proud smirk as he reflects on all of the treasured memories they held, weaved into the worn fabric. 

“Lucky.” Ashton mutters, glaring at all of the other apparent wristbands written with previous dates Luke had apparently been to. “I was going to go, but then my parents decided to book a holiday to Cyprus over that weekend and made me sell the tickets.” He rolled his eyes, reflecting back to the sheer sense of misery and dread he felt throughout that entire holiday, from glaring out of the circular window on the Thomson plane, right up to sulking at the poolside on the last night. 

“What?!” Luke's jaw drops. “Didn’t they  _know_  it was over the Reading weekend?!”

Ashton shrugs. “Don’t think they cared. They probably did it deliberately so I  _couldn’t_  go, to come to think of it.”

“That’s cruel.” Luke responds with sad eyes, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the threading of the bracelets. 

“It was probably a really good lineup.” Ashton glares at his classmate, the old sense of envy suddenly rising into consciousness.

Luke shrugged. “I can’t really remember, to be honest. I was blind drunk for the majority of it.” Ashton rolls his eyes. “Wait-” Luke’s eyes suddenly light up with realization, as if the bracelets had triggered a switch in his memory. “My Chemical Romance played on the Friday, I think.”

Ashton whines.

Luke gives him a subtle smirk, before narrowing his eyes suddenly. “You like them?!” 

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “ _Like_  them?! More like they’ve been favourite band for seven years?” Luke gives a little scoff of disbelief, his eyes shining with what Ashton can only describe as happiness.

“Really?” 

Ashton nods shyly, under the pretty safe bet that Luke likes them as much as he does.

Luke gives Ashton a small grin, before running his fingers through his hair. “Love them too.” 

”I was meant to go see them when they‘re playing next Thursday.” Ashton sighs sadly. 

Luke gazes up at him briefly. “Why can’t you?”

Ashton, abandoning his colouring pencil and taking to watching Luke colour unproductively, gives another sigh. “Couldn’t get tickets in time.” 

Luke flickers his eyes up at him, giving a suggestive grin before focusing back on his work. “Interesting.”

“What?” Ashton narrows his eyes, filled with sudden mistrust. 

“Oh, nothing…” Luke replies airily, refraining form looking up, leaving Ashton with no other option other than to stare at Luke’s fringe, wishing he could read the mess of whatever was going on in his mind right now.

Amidst the silence, Ashton hears him chuckle to himself. 

“What?!” The irritation rises in Ashton's voice at Luke’s annoying secrecy.

Luke gives up, still giggling as he glances up at Ashton. “Okay, okay… well…” His voice dissolves into satisfied laughter. “I can’t believe how convenient this is.” His eyes glitter.

“ _What’s_  convenient?!” Ashton demands. 

“Okay, well…” Luke drops his own pencil onto the table, leaning into Ashton with a sudden closeness that allowed his spicy, slightly vanilla-hinted scent to hit Ashton, sending his heart into hyperactivity. “I’m glad you have such a brilliant music taste, because I have tickets for that concert.”

“And…?” Ashton frowns expectantly.

Luke raises his eyebrows. “ _Two_  tickets.” 

Ashton pulls his head back a little. “Who else is going with you, then?” 

“For fuck‘s sake…” Luke groans, sitting back in defeat and putting his palm to his face. 

“Sorry for not being as socially experienced as you.” Ashton snaps.

“Listen.” Luke rephrases, his fingers finding their way into the mess of his light hair again. “I got two tickets to My Chemical Romance. I was, er… gonna go with Michael, but he has to go to his sister’s wedding next Thursday so I have a free ticket, and my other friends have a shit music taste. So come with me.”

Ashton’s eyes widen. “Really…?” 

“No, I’m only having you on.” Luke rolls his eyes sarcastically, coming to terms with how much Ashton really _doesn't_ understand about sociability. 

“I- thanks…?” Ashton giggles nervously, having not a clue how he was supposed to react. “So, shall I- shall I pay you back for the tickets on Monday or something-…?”

“Ashton, I’m not in it for your money.” Luke shakes his head. “I just wanna do something. It’ll be more fun with you that it would be with Michael, anyway.”

Ashton's heart thumps with pride under his blazer. “And this morning, you would’ve been disgusted at the idea of taking me anywhere?” 

Luke shrugs. “A lot can change in a few hours.” His eyes flicker to the window, realizing the lateness of the evening had devoured the sky’s light completely, leaving them surrounded by darkness in the artificially-lit classroom.

“You’re not like your friends, are you?” Ashton frowns, his heart still singing excitedly over the offer Luke had just actually made in the name of it being a casual, everyday proposition, like asking a friend to come to the newsagent with you.

Luke giggles, giving Ashton a curious frown. “You’re not like  _anyone_ , are you?” 

Ashton swallows nervously. “Is that meant to be an insult?” 

Luke shakes his head, his grin disappearing. “Who wants to be like anyone else?” 

“Well fitting a little bit would probably save me a little bit of misery.” Ashton raises his eyebrows, accidentally putting a dark twist on their conversation in the most casual manner he could manage.

Luke sighs, his shoulder sagging as he leans back into Ashton, picking up the pencil as an excuse to let his hands brush against the light brown-haired boy’s. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are  _you_ sorry?” Ashton freezes, as if Luke’s touch needed to add anything more to what his heart was already coping with, his radiating warmth making a sudden contribution to every pounding beat inside Ashton's chest.

“On behalf of my friends.” Luke shrugs, his words becoming near-incoherent mumbles as he soon drops the pencil and lets his fingers brush against the smooth, pale skin of the back of Ashton's right hand, to which the boy responds with a sigh, followed by a nervous chuckle, his eyes silently begging Luke not to stop.

“You’re not responsible for their actions, Luke.” Ashton shakes his head. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not really, though.” Luke sighs. “I want to do something about it, but-”

“But you cant.” Ashton finishes his sentence. “I understand. I’m used to it.” 

“That’s precisely the problem.” Luke gazes up at the boy with sad-coloured eyes. “The fact that you’ve had to deal with it for so long, you’ve just become accustomed to it.”

“Why does that concern  _you?_ ” Ashton tries to make his words sound as less sharp as he could possibly manage, and Luke luckily seems to pick up on this once the smile playing at his lips catches Ashton's eye. “A matter of hours ago, you would barely give me the time of day.”

“A lot can change in a few hours.” Luke repeats, his eyes glittering knowingly, before he gulps. “I just-… I felt like these tickets would be the best way to make it up to you. I don’t know.”

Ashton stays silent, awaiting an elaboration.

“I-…” Luke chuckles in disbelief. “I’ve always had nothing against you, Ashton. I always wanted to make that as clear to you as possible.” Ashton scoffs. “Seeing as, y’know, we needed to be on good terms in order to do this project, I figured that… well, I might as well prove it to you.” 

“Okay…” Ashton narrows his eyes.

“I’ve always found you interesting…” Luke confesses, letting his fingers play in between the fabric memories of the Reading Weekend wristbands. “And the brilliance in your music taste just amplifies my opinion on you by a factor of about 500. So well done for having a good selection on there.” He gently taps the screen of Ashton’s iPod, causing a grin to tug on the brown-haired boys lips. “So… I figured what better way to make it up to you than to take you to My Chemical Romance?” His eyes glitter hopefully.

Ashton's heart leaps. “You  _really_  aren’t like your friends, are you?” 

Lukeshrugs, before shaking his head. “I’m only nice to people I really _like_ , if that's what you mean.” 

Ashton feels his face flush from pale to peony, as Luke’s eyes flicker back up to him.

“But… before anything, you need to answer one question correctly.” He raises an eyebrow.

Ashton screws up his face. “I hate trivia.” He whines.

Luke rolls his eyes, before leaning in slightly, obviously aware of what it was doing to Ashton, before continuing. 

“Favourite album?” 

Ashton's throat goes dry. What  _is_  his favourite album? His heart pretty much lies with the Black Parade, although he knows nothing can compare to-

“Danger Days.” He blurts out, absent of any kind of second thought about it, before the instant fear comes flooding in after delay, because  _shit_ , what if he should’ve stuck with Black Parade? Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge? Oh god, Conventional Weapo-”

“Correct.” Luke’s eyes light up with surprised satisfaction, by this point contributing no effort to covering up the prominence of his hated dimple. The reason behind his grin was certainly not worth covering up. “You’ve got  _really_  good taste, haven’t you?” He adds, flicking his fringe out of the way and gazing up into the boy’s light-brown coloured eyes.

Ashton shrugs modestly, before narrowing his eyes. “What do I win, then?” 

Luke chuckles. “Isn’t my friendship enough?” 

Ashton remains silent, his heart thudding so hard he’s convinced he’s not the only one who could hear it. “Did you have anything else in mind?” He gulps.

Luke, finally losing all carefully-built composure and self control, knocks Ashton's pencil straight out of his hand, and leans into him, their lips suddenly colliding in a rough kiss.  
Ashton obviously taken by such incomprehensive surprise, feels adrenaline shoot through his veins and a sheen of panicked sweat form underneath his collar as he kisses Luke back powerfully, his mind not even bothering to come to terms with  _what the everloving fuck was happening right now._

The kiss continues for a couple more seconds, the silence occasionally broken by the short, sweet sounds of their lips pecking and breaking apart, before Luke pulls away, a grin already written onto his soft lips.

Ashton gazes into the boy’s eyes, still trying to come to terms with whatever the fuck the unfathomable mess of his mind was doing to him right now. He gulps again, chills shimmering through his body suddenly as Luke's fingers begin caressing Ashton's skin affectionately, gradually making their way up to his face, allowing him to gently cup the teenage boy’s cheek and give him a soft look, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” 

“You still haven’t realized?” He giggles shyly, leaning in for another kiss to which Ashton reciprocates enthusiastically, ignoring the flood of unanswered questions his mind was relentlessly throwing at him. He feels Luke smiling against his lips, before he pauses and breaks away slightly.

Ashton's heart thuds. “Realized what?” 

Luke swallows nervously, still half-heartedly cupping Ashton's cheek as the grin returns, before he confesses in a quiet whisper.

“That ticket was never for Michael.”


End file.
